catching bullets in our teeth
by LowkeyLyesmiths
Summary: Alfred is your average high school kid, seventeen years old, parents happily married, big group of friends, average (okay slightly below average) grades then one lunch everything changes. Rumours have been circulating around the school involving a certain unstable Russian and gun and Alfred isn't about to let Ivan hurt anyone. Including himself. Eventual AmeRus.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **so I shouldn't be starting a new story but anasthaeziiya's idea from tumblr ate my brain so lol, here.

It'll be FACE family with AmeRus and a few background pairings, will be triggering in other chapters but not so much in the first one!

Gigglesnort. Someone needs to physically restrain me.

* * *

This is all an accident.

A misunderstanding.

He shouldn't be here.

"Ivan..."

The other boy raises his eyes slowly to meet Alfred's, his teeth are gritted and Alfred pretends he doesn't see the tears in those odd purple eyes. "Alfred," Ivan hisses. "I would like for you to leave, _now_."

There's a lump in Alfred's throat that keeps getting bigger and a roaring in his ears that might just be the wind rattling against the broken window pane. Ivan's room is so much bigger than his but he sees now how empty it is, how there are cobwebs hanging from every rafter and mould and damp and what he's fairly sure are rat droppings in the corner. There's nothing homely about this room, nothing warm.

He looks back up at Ivan who's trembling, Ivan who's shaking, Ivan who's not supposed to be like _this_. He wonders if the alternative - the reason he came here in the first place would have been any easier. He notices the long sleeves, the way Ivan's coat hangs off him in places, wonders if anyone else had noticed. (He knows in his heart they haven't and if they have they've looked away, averted their gaze, _keep calm and carry on _as Dad would say)

There's a hole in Ivan's blanket and he stares at it (it's thin, too thin to keep him warm in this big empty room with its broken windows - Alfred wonders why he's suddenly so concerned)

"_Leave_." Ivan growls but it doesn't sound threatening it sounds desperate.

Alfred closes his eyes.

This isn't right.

_He shouldn't be here._

* * *

"Mr Jones, if you do not sit down within the next five minutes I will be forced to disembowel you," Mr Beilschmidt snapped.

Alfred giggled, there was a vein pulsing in Mr Beilschmidt's neck. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal, sir."

Mattie tugged his sleeve, "Al, _sit down_." He hissed, "If you get detention again Dad will_ kill_ you."

Mattie was right, as usual and Alfred sighed, dropping in to his seat and glaring at his brother. In front of him Kiku and Chelles (his best friend's aside from Mattie) shot him identical grins and the entire class were sniggering, well, the entire class except the creepy Russian kid sat alone at the front. Personally, Alfred thought his impression of their history teacher was _perfect_.

"Don't start anything," Mattie whispered, nudging him as Mr Beilschmidt began to drone on about the Soviet Union.

"Awh, Mattie, you think so little of me!" he hissed back.

His brother rolled his eyes and Chelles leant back, her long dark hair brushing against Alfred's desk. "This is _so _boring." She hissed. Alfred nodded in agreement. World history was Alfred's least favourite subject, he just didn't get why he should care about stuff that happened a million years ago in _other countries._ Then again he didn't get why they needed to learn things like algebra and calculus. Or about books written about white whales a hundred years ago. Mattie shot him a warning look and Alfred sighed, sitting back. His Dad _would _kill him if he got another detention from Mr Beilschmidt.

He could make one lesson without doing anything hilarious, right?

Okay so he made it half way through.

"We don't need to learn about this, sir," He interjected. "We could just ask Ivan. He's a Commie, right?"

Ivan stiffened visibly and Mr Beilschmidt sighed, "Alfred, apologise."

But Ivan spoke up before Alfred could say anything. "Nyet, it is no matter," he said, creepy grin fixed firmly on his face. "I am sure Alfred was just joking, da?"

Alfred sniggered. "Da, Ivan." _Stupid Commie._

Mr Beilschmidt shook his head, "Alfred go to the office please."

"_What_? But he said it was okay!" Alfred exclaimed.

"Office. _Now._"

From his seat at the front Ivan smiled at him smugly. Alfred stood up with a huff, "_Fine_." he growled, snatching up his bag and storming out of the room, pausing beside Ivan's desk to knock his books off and kick his bag away.

"_ALFRED_!" Mr Beilschmidt roared as Alfred took off down the hallway with a cackle.

It was worth the detention.

He dawdled on his way to the main office, dropping in on Mr Vargas the art teacher for a quick chat ("Oh, Alfred! You shouldn't torture poor Luddy! He has a difficult job you know!") And taking the long way across the playing fields. When he finally reached the office the guidance councillor/Vice Principle greeted him not with a dark look but with a smile.

"Ah! Alfred, I was just about to send for you, aru!" Yao said with a grin.

"Oh, well great!" (Did this mean he was off the hook?) "How come?"

"We have a new boy starting in your grade today; I thought you would be a good candidate to show him around...Even if you are not the best influence."

Alfred grinned, "Sure! Where is he?"

"With the headmaster, he will be out in a minute." Then Yao frowned, "Why _are_ you here, Alfred?"

"Uh...Well..."

Yao narrowed his eyes, "Alfred?"

"I _may_ have been sent out of Mr Beilschmidt's class..."

"_Again_ Alfred? What is your problem with that class, aru?"

Alfred shrugged, smiling winningly and Yao rolled his eyes. "We will talk about this later, Alfred." He said with a stern look. Luckily for Alfred the new boy chose that moment to appear. He was shorter than Alfred, with light brown hair and bright green eyes.

"Hi, I'm Alfred!"

The new boy smiled shyly, taking the hand Alfred offered. "Toris, it's nice to meet you, Alfred." Toris had a slight accent and Alfred frowned.

"Thought you'd transferred from Pennsylvania?"

Toris chuckled nervously, "I'm from Lithuania originally."

"Oh cool!" (That was somewhere in Europe, right?) "How old were you?" he asked, leading Toris out of the office.

"Ten. It was a bit of a change," he answered.

"I'll bet!"

He chattered with Toris as he showed him round the school, introducing him to a few teachers and filling him in on who was nice and who was strict. He learnt that Toris had moved because his father had got a new job at the same company his dad worked at and that he had two brothers, one in elementary school, the other in middle school. The bell for lunch rang just as Alfred was finishing the door.

"Great!" he cried, "I'm starving, plus I can introduce you to everyone else!" he led Toris to the canteen, still chatting merrily to him.

"So you'll be okay with most of the kids here, they're all pretty nice but if you have any problems you come to me, right?" Alfred said as they queued to get their lunches. It was true; their school was a fairly safe place, most of the students were fairly friendly.

Toris laughed, "Right."

Mattie, Kiku and Chelles were already sat at their usual table and Alfred waved enthusiastically as they made their way over. "Hey, everyone! This is Toris, he's new!"

Mattie and Kiku smiled politely and Chelles grinned, "Hi, I'm Chelles, well it's Michelle but no one's allowed to call me that. This is Kiku and this is Mattie. Nice to meet you!"

Toris smiled nervously as he sat down, "Hi."

"So anyway, as I was saying, you'll be pretty okay with everyone here." Alfred said, taking a bite of his sandwich and scanning the crowded lunchroom. His eyes fell on a solitary figure at the other end of the room and he huffed. "Okay, maybe there's _one _guy you should watch out for."

Toris followed his gaze and yelped,"Ivan Braginsky!"

"Oh my god dude, how did you know that? Are like psychic or something?"

"No-No, he went to my old school."

"_Oh_."

Toris laughed and shook his head. "He was terrifying."

"Dude, he _is _terrifying," Alfred corrected.

"Yeah," Chelles hissed, leaning closer to them, dark eyes bright. "He _broke_ Mr Beilschmidt's brother's arm last month just for _touching _his scarf!"

Toris shuddered, "He got kicked out of my old school after almost killing a boy in eighth grade. We were in sixth."

"Oh my god, what a psycho!" Alfred giggled.

"Al, you shouldn't be so mean about him," Mattie muttered. "And besides, Gilbert is really annoying."

"Your brother is really annoying; does that mean I can break his arm, Mattie?" Chelles asked with a smirk.

Mattie seemed to consider this for a few moments, "Hey! That's just mean." Alfred said, "Besides, not like you could break my arm anyway."

"Wanna bet?"

Kiku rolled his eyes, "If you two are going to arm wrestle again I'll go sit with Kaoru and Emil."

"Killjoy," Alfred muttered with a small smile at the Japanese boy. Glancing over at Toris he realised his new friend was still staring at Ivan so he turned to glance at the Russian. "Something wrong, Toris?"

"No," Toris smiled awkwardly. "Just...It's weird seeing him again."

"Don't worry about him, Toris," Chelles said warmly. "We'll protect you from the big bad Russian! Right, guys?"

"Yeah!"

* * *

Two weeks after Toris moved to their school and it was like he'd always been there. He got on well with everyone, fitted right in to Alfred's circle of friends.

They were sitting in the canteen when it happened, when Alfred's life changed forever. Chelles was telling them about the disastrous date she'd been on the night before and everyone (including Kiku) was trying not to crack up too loudly.

"So then right, he goes '_Oh, Michelle_, _you are even more beautiful than the stars in the sky' _and this guy who looked _exactly _like Mr Vargas came out of nowhere and attacked him! It was _insane!_ So then-"

She was interrupted by the loud arrival of Kiku's cousin who skidded to a halt beside their table panted, "I...I just heard that that Russian kid bought a _gun_. Emil's brother and Mathias saw him and asked why and he wouldn't answer and we think he's going to shoot up the school!"

"_What?"_

Kaoru took a steadying breath. "Well it's just he hates everyone, right? And I told a couple of other kids and they think so too, I mean why else would he need a gun?"

"Maybe he wants to take up hunting?" Mattie suggested weakly.

"Has anyone said anything to the teachers?" Kiku asked, watching his cousin intently.

Kaoru nodded, "But they said they had no evidence so they couldn't do anything!"

"That's _bullshit!" _Alfred cried, "So what we just wait for that crazy Ruskie to shoot us all to pieces?"

"Don't jump to conclusions, Al," Mattie said.

Kiku nodded, "He is right, Alfred. We don't know anything about why Ivan would have done this."

"Well I'm damn sure going to find out!"


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** sorry it's so short guys! Thanks for the reviews and favs and stuff, they're awesome! But all you lurkers please review! it really makes my day.

* * *

"Al, I don't understand why we're doing this," Mattie said for the fourteenth time. They were on their way home from school, well, they were taking a little detour on their way home from school. Or a _big _detour.

"Mattie, I told you you didn't have to come with us!" Alfred sang, skipping ahead of Mattie and Toris. It had been a week since Kaoru had told them about Ivan's gun and Alfred was still determined to find out whether or not it was true. The scary thing was he'd seen nothing that made him think differently; Ivan still spent all his time alone with that creepy smile plastered on his face and he still got bullied by half the school. The kids who shot up schools were usually bullied, right? Loners. _Lonely._ He wasn't entirely sure what this particular excursion was going to accomplish but he was sure it would be important somehow.

Behind him his brother huffed. "Couldn't let you get in to trouble, Al." He mumbled. Alfred shot him a grin and Mattie rolled his eyes.

"You better slow down, Alfred," Toris suggested. "Otherwise he'll see us."

"Oh yeah!"

The Russian was walking a safe distance away from them, his head slightly bowed and his hands buried deep in the pockets of his long coat. Though it was only just October he was wearing a furry hat pulled low over his head and his ever present pale pink scarf was wound tightly round his neck. Weirdo. He must have been boiling. He had walked slowly back from the school and Mattie kept checking his watch with a sigh (Mattie hated being late home).

Ivan paused in front of a detached ruin of a house in the middle of the street. It was tall and rickety; several of the windows on the upper floor were broken or cracked. The garden was overgrown and cluttered with rubbish and what Alfred thought looked like a slowly rusting car, or at list the body of one. It was set back from the street, further back than any of the other houses around it.

"That must be it," he whispered. "It's pretty big though. Does he have a big family?"

Toris shrugged, "I don't think so, I've only ever seen his father."

"What's he like?" Alfred hissed as they watched Ivan pick his way up the cracked path.

"_Terrifying,_" Toris shuddered. "He came to the school once after Ivan beat up some high school kid outside the gate during lunch. I thought the principle was going to wet himself."

"Explains a lot," Mattie muttered, "Anyway, now that you've stalked him to his house what're you gonna do?"

"Uhh..."

His brother rolled his eyes, "So we came here for nothing?"

"Well not _nothing_!" Alfred protested. "I mean now we know that he's probably poor and his dad's a dick!"

"Which tells us...?"

"_God _Mattie, you've been spending entirely too much time with Dad, you know?" Alfred grumbled, glaring at his twin.

"Come on guys," Toris said nervously. "Let's not fight, okay? Let's just go home yeah?"

Alfred nodded, "Yeah, that's a good idea. Let's go." He said, turning away from the broken house. "Dad and Papa will be getting worried."

"Sorry, Al." Mattie said with a sheepish smile.

"It's okay, Matts."

It turned out that the Ruskie didn't live all that far from them; it only took them twenty minutes to walk Toris home and then get back to theirs just in time for dinner. When Alfred pushed his way noisily into the hall he found their little brother Peter waiting on the stairs, swinging his legs as he tapped away on his gameboy.

"You're _late_," he announced smugly. "Dad's gonna be mad!"

"No he won't," Alfred said with a superior grin. "We're _allowed _to be out late."

"Awh, no fair!" Peter whined. "I wanna stay out late!"

Alfred ruffled his hair, "Yeah well, you're too little, squirt."

"_So?" _he pushed Alfred away. "I'm way smarter then you."

"Well that's not hard," Mattie said quietly shooting a conspiratal grin towards Peter.

"Awh, what! No fair, you guys can't gang up on me!"

They were interrupted by their Dad calling from the kitchen, "It's about time you two got here! Come on, dinners getting cold!"

"Oh no, Papa's working late tonight!" Mattie turned pale, "Dad didn't cook it did he?"

Peter nodded solemnly.

"Hey, Dad's cooking isn't so bad," Alfred said with a grin to his brothers who gaped at him. "_I _like it. Karma's a bitch, guys."

* * *

"Oh my God," Chelles whispered, "You are _obsessed_!"

They were in the canteen and Alfred was watching Ivan closely. "Hey, I'm just trying to look out for your safety here! I don't want to get killed because he has issues!"

The rumours about Ivan had spread through the school like wildfire; some kids had even bunked off 'just in case'. Ivan was sat alone at his usual table, nose buried in some Russian book. Alfred watched as a group of boys from the final year made their way over to him, jeering and shoved him around a bit. Ivan's expression didn't change at all throughout.

Chelles rolled her eyes, "Yeah and all I'm saying is that if the teachers don't think he's a risk shouldn't you trust their judgement. I mean it's only their _job_ to look after kids."

Alfred waved a dismissive hand, "Only 'cos Yao's weirdly in love with the Commie. Any other councillor would have sent him away for sure."

"Oh come on, Al. He's just the way he's always been, why would he suddenly decide to do this now?" she asked.

"Maybe he just snapped. Most murders are spur of the moment type things, right?"

"Right," agreed Kiku. "But it's not spur of the moment if he's planned it though is it?"

"Look guys, I'm just doing this _in case_, right? Better safe than sorry. Toris is on my side though, right Toris?"

Toris flushed and blinked hurriedly, "Well I-I wouldn't put it past him..."

"See?" Alfred said with a hint of pride.

"But Al, you're not actually _doing _anything." Chelles pointed out. "All you're doing is staring at him and it's creeping me out!"

Kiku nodded, "That is true. Have you ever actually tried talking to him?"

"_Talk _to Ivan?" Chelles repeated, "You do realise you'd be sending Alfred to his death, right?"

Kiku shrugged and Alfred turned back to the solitary Russian. Maybe he should... It would certainly give him a better read on him then just watching from afar. Maybe he could get some real, solid evidence.

"You know what? I'm going to!"

Kiku blanched, "Alfred, no! I did not really mean-" But Alfred was already half way across the room, tray in hand.

"Hello, Ivan," he said with the brightest smile he could muster as he set his tray down.

Ivan looked at the tray and then up at him, childish smile in place though there was something darker in his strange purple eyes. "Privyet, Alfred. What were you wanting, comrade?"

"Just thought I'd join you for lunch."

That stumped Ivan. For a moment his expression went totally blank and for a few seconds Alfred saw the confusion and suspicion in Ivan's eyes but it was quickly replaced by a smile. "Da, okay." He said, beaming.

For a few minutes they ate in silence as Alfred tried to figure out what to say and then Ivan spoke. "So why are you _really _here, Alfred?" he said quietly.

"Thought I could talk to you," Alfred said thickly through a mouthful of burger. "Don't you want a _friend, _Ivan?"

"Nyet, not really."

Alfred swallowed, deciding to get straight down to business. The lunch hall was still crowded but soon kids would begin to drift out to smoke or chat elsewhere. If Ivan was going to attack him he'd rather there be more people around then less. "Is that why you bought the gun?"

Ivan stiffened. "_What_?"

"You don't like people, so you bought a gun?"

"Where did you hear that?" The Russian hissed. "From whom?"

"Does it matter?" Alfred frowned. Ivan hadn't _denied _it. "Did you?"

Ivan sat back, glaring at him, "What reason would I have for buying a _gun_?"

_Shooting up the school, _Alfred thought but there was no way he was being _that _direct. "Revenge?" he suggested. "You get pushed around a lot and called names. I'd get mad if I were you."

"Oh, _would you_?" Ivan spat.

_Well, at least I'm seeing the real Ivan, not just his smiling mask, _Alfred thought as Ivan leaned forwards.

"Let me tell you something, Alfred Jones. I would never, _ever _bring a gun to school and shoot innocent people. I know you like to think of me as a villain but I'm _not_, okay? But if I _did _bring one there would only be one victim and that's _you_." He growled and despite himself Alfred flinched.

"But I haven't done anything to-"

"You _haven't_? So calling me names is _nothing? _Mocking my heritage is _nothing?_ Laughing at my accent is _nothing_? Assuming I am a _murderer _is _nothing_?_" _

Alfred registered hazily (under the part of his brain screaming at him to run) that angry tears were burning in Ivan's eyes. _Oh God, _he thought. _Oh god, he's right._

"You are not as good a person as you would like to think, Alfred."

"Ivan-" Alfred began shakily but the Russian slammed his hands down on the table and Alfred would be lying if he said he didn't leap out of his skin.

"_Leave," _Ivan spat. "Now."

Alfred obeyed.

_Fuckfuckfuck._

When he glanced back Ivan was angrily tossing his things back into his bag, even the book he usually so carefully put away was hastily shoved in. "You're alive!" Chelles practically sang.

"How did it go?" Toris asked worriedly as Alfred sat back down slowly. "Did you get anything out of him?"

Alfred swallowed thickly and wished Mattie was here rather than at hockey practise. "No, no I think I might have made things worse..."

* * *

Alfred was slumped over, half asleep in the library, in a free period when Toris shook him roughly, green eyes wide. "Alfred!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"Ivan got sent home early; he completely freaked in English class and beat up that Finnish kid and his Norwegian friend! It took four teachers to pull him off!"

_Shit. _

He got to his feet and almost tripped over his chair as he leapt away from the desk.

_He might just __**snap.**_

"We have to get to him," he said, already at the library doors. "We need to find out if he really does have a gun!"

"What about class?" Toris asked, jogging to keep up.

"Cover for me?"

Toris nodded, "Be careful, Alfred! Don't be a hero!"

Alfred grinned, "I'm _always _a hero, Toris."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Yay! Update! Thanks for the reviews guys :) Enjoy!

* * *

It was only when Alfred reached Ivan's house that he realised his heroic plan had one huge flaw: he had no idea how to get in. Ivan wouldn't let him in. Ivan might not even _be _there. He stood in front of the crumbling house and looked at the peeling wooden door, if he knocked he knew no would answer. Ivan certainly wouldn't and he assumed Ivan's father wouldn't be home.

There was only one solution: to break in.

In the interest of school safety, of course.

He circled round the dilapidated building (fighting his way through the overgrown backyard) to the back door which was happily unlocked. (Idiots) The kitchen was filthy, empty and cold; he shuddered at the thought of what his Papa would say if he saw it. Jeez, how did Ivan even _live _in this place? The wallpaper in hallway was peeling, the floor was uncarpeted and the whole place smelt like damp. He'd peered in to the living room only to find it dingy and full of empty alcohol bottles, Ivan and his dad were serious _slobs._

Most of the house was empty (and _filthy_) it was only when he crept up the stairs to the loft that he heard any signs of life. The door to the loft room was slightly ajar and Alfred could hear the gentle clicks of what he thought was a gun being loaded (he'd never actually heard one in real life; both his father's _hated _them.) He peered in, as quietly as possible.

Ivan had his back to him, shoulders slumped, head bowed. He was sat on the bed beside him was a box of a ammo, _I'm right, _Alfred thought triumphantly. Before thinking, _I'm right, _with dismay.

Ivan had a gun.

Ivan was loading it.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. _

He was right.

For a few moments he wondered if he should back out, call the cops, call his parents, call the school. Call _anyone._ But they might not believe him...and Ivan might not wait. He might just go back now, there was still an hour left of school. Plenty of time for him to...He couldn't leave. He had to do this _now_ but somehow he didn't think that leaping in to Ivan's bedroom and yelling "FREEZE! I'VE CAUGHT YOU!" would be completely appropriate (even if it would be cool.)

But still, it was his only plan.

So he sort of went for it.

He shoved open the door loudly and Ivan spun around, eyes wide. "HA! I was right!" Alfred yelled as the shotgun Ivan had been holding clattered across the floorboards.

"_Alfred_!" The Russian yelped, "How _the fuck _did you get in here!?"

"I knew it! I knew it!" Alfred repeated, ignoring Ivan's wide eyes. "I _knew _you were up to something! I knew it, Jesus, you are way more fucked up then I thought big guy! That's why I ran over here, I knew as soon as Toris told me you got in trouble you'd snap or something so I _had _to stop you. But then I knew you wouldn't answer and I really couldn't risk you going psycho so I broke in-"

"You _broke _into my _house_!"

"Well yeah, to stop you from killing people!"

Ivan stared at him. "_What_?"

"That's right, Commie, I knew all about your little plan. I saw all the warning signs, doesn't matter if the teachers didn't believe me. _I _knew. You sick fuck," Alfred said victoriously. "You are going away for a long time."

Ivan had paled and backed away, stumbling backwards and sitting down heavily on the bed. "You-You thought I was going to _shoot people_-" he mumbled.

"Well _duh._ You're such a freak, you bought a gun, you hate everyone one. It wasn't hard to work it out!"

"Alfred-"

_God, _Alfred was so good. He was going to be in the newspapers and everything! He could see the headlines now, 'Hero student saves hundreds!' His parents would be _so _proud. "I'm gonna call the cops on you. You think you'll get arrested? Maybe they'll just send you to a nut house-"

"_Alfred_-"

"This is going to make such a cool story. I'll have no trouble becoming detective now! Maybe I can even be an FBI Agent!"

"_Alfred_!" Ivan snarled, "The gun was for me." he said quietly.

Alfred blinked, stuttering to a halt. "What?"

Ivan glared up at him, teeth gritted. "The gun was for _me_."

_Oh_.

* * *

And that was how Alfred ended up here, in a strange kid's bedroom, staring at his pitiful bedding, trying desperately to figure out what to say.

"_Leave_." Ivan growled and Alfred could hear the edge of tears in his voice.

He swallowed thickly. He couldn't leave now. Not now that he knew the Russian was going to do _that_. They'd talked about suicide in class once, god he wished he'd paid attention now instead of playing hangman with Chelles all lesson. "Why- Why would you want to do that, Ivan?" he asked quietly.

Ivan quirked an eyebrow, expression completely neutral, "I am not talking about this with you."

"You know kids at school...You know they're only joking around right? No one really hates you." he tried lamely.

Ivan scoffed, "Oh, _yes_. They are all only _joking around_ when they take my stuff and call me names."

"I..." Alfred's stomach was churning. He'd always thought it hadn't bothered Ivan... "Look I know I haven't always been the _nicest _guy to you but-" _I'm here if you want to talk, _he was about to say but Ivan cut him.

"Oh, _really._"

"Ivan, I never thought-"

"What? You never thought I had _feelings_?"

"No, no," _yes, yes. _

Ivan growled, ran a hand through his hair (his sleeve rose up and Alfred noticed the bruises). "Get out of my house, Alfred."

"Ivan I'm trying to help-"

"BUT YOU AREN'T," Ivan roared. Alfred flinched. He'd never seen the Russian so angry. He'd heard stories about when Ivan had snapped and got in to fights but he'd never actually been there. It was terrifying. "You are making things worse, Alfred." He said quieter now but his voice shook with anger.

"If I leave do I have your word you won't hurt yourself?" Alfred asked, eyeing the gun a few feet away from him.

"No."

He swallowed, looked back at Ivan and met his eyes, _heroes didn't run_. "Then I'm not leaving." He said determinedly.

"I have a gun," Ivan reminded him.

Alfred licked his lips, "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" Ivan stood, towering over him. "Do you know that for sure, Alfred? Only a few minutes ago you thought that was my intention all along."

Taking an involuntary step back Alfred took a steadying breath. "That was before I-" _realised you were human_. "You _wouldn't._"

Ivan deflated. "Da," he said tiredly. "You are right." He backed off and sat back down on the bed, burying his face in his hands despairingly. "Alfred, _please_ leave."

Alfred took the opportunity to kick the rifle further away; it clattered out the open door and on to the landing (better safe than sorry). "I'm not going anywhere, Ivan."

"No, you don't understand," Ivan mumbled, "Alfred, you _have _to leave. My father will be home soon." Ivan's voice shook, but not with anger this time.

Alfred thought back to the empty bottles in the living room, the empty fridge, Toris' comments about his dad and _oh_ it all made sense now. The bruises Ivan occasionally showed up with, his worn clothes, the state of the house.

"It's not just high school is it?" Alfred asked quietly, sitting down beside Ivan on the bed.

Ivan ran a shaky hand through his ashen hair, "Nyet." He whispered.

Alfred bit his lip. He had _no idea _how he was supposed to do this. "Must be rough." He muttered.

"What would you know?" Ivan snapped, scrubbing angrily at his eyes (not that Alfred had noticed any tears and if he did he wouldn't say anything.)

Yao always said to open up about yourself if you wanted others to open up to you, it established trust apparently. "You know my little brother Peter?" Alfred asked.

Ivan frowned at him, "Da?"

"Well he's not my real brother. He's my Dad's brother. My Dad's parent's had him really young and he grew up mostly in foster care, didn't see them much but he knew enough." He shuddered slightly, remembering a few of the horror stories he'd heard Dad tell (never _to_ him, mostly to Papa late at night) but Ivan was watching him with interest so he continued. "So when they told him they were expecting again he sued for custody and luckily we got Peter as soon as he was born. Dad's parents...They weren't very nice people."

"Oh..."

"So I do sort of know a little bit."

Ivan nodded. "My dad...he is not a very nice person either." He said softly.

Alfred glanced around the empty room again. "Yeah, I figured."

"So you need to leave, he'll be angry."

"I'm not leaving, Ivan. Not until I know you won't hurt yourself."

Ivan sighed with frustration. "Why do you _care_?"

Alfred shrugged and smiled weakly, "Mostly just to annoy you, I guess."

Ivan didn't seem to find it all that funny. "You can't stay here all night."

"No, I suppose not," but Alfred grinned as an idea hit him. "But _you _can stay at _mine_!" he cried, springing up and tugging at Ivan's sleeve (far too lose)

"Wh-What?" Ivan spluttered. "I will not go _anywhere _with _you_!"

"Well, you can either come to my house now or I can phone the police and you'll be taken away to some mental hospital."

"You wouldn't," Ivan said, almost pleadingly.

"Oh, I would. I really would. And you know it, Ivan. I'm not leaving you alone."

Ivan stared at him for a long time, searching his face. After a few minutes he dropped his gaze, mouth a tight line. "_Fine_. I will come to yours. But I am not staying the night there."

"Great!" Alfred said brightly, though he had no intention of letting Ivan leave. (How could he?) "Let's get going!"


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **hey sorry it's been so long, things have been hectic with the last few weeks of uni so I haven't had much time to write but now I have four weeks off! YAY. So things should be updated more regularly from now.

A few things: One, yep, this is unbeta'd and I don't really have time to look for a beta but if any of you are interested drop me a message on here or on my tumblr (lowkeylyesmyths)

Two: this story draws on my own experience of bullying but I've never experienced domestic violence so I'm really, _really _sorry if this offends anyone in any way! I do have experience with PSTD though so this part and the next few will lean heavily on that.

Thirdly with what happened yesterday in Connecticut I realise that some of this story is a little inappropriate right now and I'm so sorry if this upsets anyone.

* * *

Matthew rested his head against the windowpane. Alfred was late. Almost an hour late. _And _he'd left school early to go and harass that poor Russian kid again. And he'd left his mobile at home again.

Dad was going to _freak. _

He could hear his parents arguing downstairs, Dad was ready to tear Alfred a new one but Papa was a little more being a little more lenient as usual.

"Come on, Al," he whispered glancing anxiously at the clock on their bedroom wall. If Alfred wasn't back in half an hour he was calling the police or something. They might have killed each other. What if Alfred was right about Ivan? I mean, he _could _be right, right?

"What if he's been, like, stabbed or something," Peter suggested helpfully from his position on Alfred's bunk.

"He hasn't," Matthew snapped. "He just went over to see a friend."

"Then why are you so worried?"

_Because he's a moron. _"I'm not, I'm just bored. And I want to eat. We can't eat till he's back, that's why I'm watching for him." He said reassuringly.

Peter leapt off the bunk with a knowing look, "You _are _worried. I know you are."

Matthew sighed, "I'm fine, Peter. He's fine. He'll be home soon."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying." Matthew muttered, turning back to the window. He heard Peter scramble back into Alfred's bunk.

"Dad's really mad, huh?" he whispered softly.

Matthew turned back to him and smiled weakly, "He's fine, Pete. He's just worried, you know how he gets."

Peter looked unconvinced but he turned away, riffling through Al's stash of Captain America comic books. "He's still mad though." he grumbled. Ignoring him, Matthew turned back to the window and sighed with relief when he spotted Alfred round the corner on to their street but the relief quickly dissipated when he saw who was trailing after his twin. "_Merde_."

He stood up quickly and thundered down the stairs, Peter hot on his heels, jabbering, "Is he back Matt? Why did you swear? Is he coming home?"

Matthew reached the front door just as Alfred reached the front gate. He yanked it open and quickly shut it behind him, leaving Peter pounding on it. Alfred waved and grinned widely, "Hey bro!" he chirped. Behind him Ivan hovered on the pavement, shuffling his feet.

Matthew tried (and failed) to smile at the Russian before glaring at his twin. "Alfred, why's _he _here?"

Alfred raised his hands, "Whoa! Calm down, Mattie, its cool, he's cool." Then leaning closer he hissed, "I'll explain _later_. Just trust me."

Matthew bit his lip. "Okay."

Alfred grinned and straightened up, turning back to the Russian. "Come on, Ivan."

* * *

It was all Alfred could do to stop himself trembling as he stepped into his house, Ivan shuffling in behind him. It had been a slow, silent walk and he'd forgotten his mobile _again_. His dad was waiting in the hallway, his papa lurking somewhere behind him; Peter was sitting none too discreetly on the stairs, eyeing Ivan suspiciously.

"Hey, Dad," he said, smiling nervously.

His father's gaze flicked to Ivan and he gritted his teeth. "Alfred, who's your friend?" he asked frostily. Alfred could almost feel the tension crackling in the air, suffocating.

"This is Ivan, Dad, he's from school."

Ivan smiled nervously and Alfred saw a flicker of recognition cross his dad's green eyes, "Hello, Ivan, I'm Arthur."

"P-privyet."

"Will you be staying for dinner?"

"Uh..." Ivan mumbled.

"Yes," Alfred cut him off. "Yes, he is."

"Great," his father smiled, it didn't reach his eyes though. "Dinner won't be ready for another half hour so Matthew, why don't you show Ivan your room or something while I have a chat with Alfred? And take Peter with you."

_Crap. _

"Absolutely," Matthew said from somewhere to Alfred's left and Peter groaned before reluctantly turning tail and scrambling up the stairs.

_NO!_

Matthew hurried past him, ushering for Ivan to follow him. Alfred sent his twin a pleading look and Mattie shrugged helplessly as he lead Ivan, who glanced back at Alfred with an unreadable look, up to their room. As soon as they were gone his dad's eyes narrowed, "What the _hell, _Alfred? You leave school early, you disappear to God knows where without telling us why and then you come back with some stranger! Is that the kid you're always fighting with? It is, isn't it?"

"Dad-" Alfred began but his father cut him off.

"No, Alfred, this kind of behaviour is _un_acceptable! Do you know how worried we were? _Do you_?"

"Jeez," Alfred muttered, "I was only gone two hours..." and they didn't even live in a particularly bad neighbourhood.

"That's not the point! The point is that we didn't know where you were! And that you left school early! Your academic record is hardly spotless as it is."

A hot tendril of anger coiled through Alfred's gut. So he wasn't as clever as Mattie or Peter, so _what_? He was good at plenty of other things like baseball and football and being generally _awesome. _And besides, like Mattie always said, school grades didn't show anything apart from how good you were at regurgitating information. "There are more important things than grades, Dad." He said, with a low growl.

His father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I know that Al, but you have to understand how upsetting this is for your father and me."

"Look, I'm sorry okay? I didn't think it'd make you so worried it was just...it was something I had to do, Dad."

His father huffed and ran a hand through his hair, "So why is that Russian kid here then?"

Alfred bit his lip. He wasn't sure how much he could say to his dad without Ivan getting upset, but then again if he didn't say anything there was no way his parents would let Ivan stay overnight, especially on a school night. And it wasn't like his father wouldn't understand. He sighed, "His dad...his dad's like your dad..."

His father stiffened and his papa was at his side in an instant, a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Oh."

"I think we should probably take this into the living room, don't you think mon cheri?"

Alfred nodded numbly and trailed after them, dropping himself into the armchair and drawing his knees up to his chest. His dad never spoke much about his childhood; he'd left the foster home at sixteen and moved in with Francis who was a few years older but Alfred didn't really know how long his dad had been with his parents. All Alfred did know was that whatever had happened must have been bad because his dad had petitioned for custody of Peter before he was even born. He remembered being so excited that they were getting a little brother, remembered having to dress up smartly and talk to a few people about how awesome his dads were. He also remembered how his dad started drinking a lot during those few months and how he got paler and had dark circles under his eyes.

It had been terrifying.

"I think you should tell us the full story, Alfred," his papa said kindly, rubbing small circles in to Arthur's back.

Alfred took a deep breath. He told them about finding out that Ivan had bought a gun (glossing over his fears about school shootings) and the bullying and Ivan blowing up in school. He told them about Ivan's house and his stupid thin blanket and the bottles in the living room and the bruises and the way his coat hung off him too much. "And I just didn't know what to do..." he mumbled, trailing off.

His father cleared his throat, "Well you did the right thing telling us, lad." He said weakly.

"So, can he stay for a while?"

"Oui, of course mon cheri. Now, I think you should probably go join you brothers and your friend while your father and I have a nice long chat, hm?"

Alfred licked his dry lips, "Oui, papa." And hurried upstairs.

When he got there he found Ivan perched awkwardly on Mattie's bunk, fidgeting with his scarf while Mattie made awkward attempts at conversation. Peter was curled up on their window seat, still regarding Ivan with wide eyes. Alfred smiled shakily as he came in, "Hey guys, good news Ivan, you can stay here for a little while!"

Ivan gave him an unreadable look that could have been 'I will murder you in your sleep' but could also be 'thank_ God_.' Alfred shuffled his feet, trying to stay optimistic, "I guess I'll go get the camp bed out and the spare blankets, wanna help me, Pete?"

Peter jumped at the opportunity (he was going through a phase of hero worship which Alfred was a-okay with) "Sure!" Mattie opened his mouth, possibly to protest about being left alone with Ivan again so Alfred twirled around and hurried out into the hallway as quickly as he could, shutting the bedroom door tightly behind him with Peter at his side.

"Why'd you bring that kid home, Al?" his little brother asked as they plodded into their parent's room to fetch the bedding. "Thought you hated him."

"Well, I didn't _hate _him, I just didn't really get on with him."

"Oh," Peter said, furrowing his brow. "So why's he here?"

Alfred sighed. By now they'd reached the storage cupboard so he opened it and quickly located the camp bed buried under boxes of everything from photo albums to old toys and Christmas decorations. How was he supposed to explain this to a little kid? Peter knew he was adopted (it was kind of obvious) but Alfred wasn't sure if he knew that Dad's parents were his biological 'rents or even why he was taken away from them. (Al and Mattie's parents had died in car crash when they were a few months old - sometimes he still thought about them, about what they'd be like and where they'd live) "He just needs a place to stay, Pete. And even though I might not like him he still deserves help."

Peter nodded thoughtfully as they unstacked the boxes. "So even if that stuck up Turkish* kid needs help I should give it too him? He's so annoying though!"

Alfred chuckled, "I don't know, it's you call, Pete."

* * *

He's referring to the TRNC. Is he Turkish? Is he Cyprian? I do not know. anyone want to clear this up for me? Author apologises for her lack of intelligence.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **i know, i know, it's been ages but i'm kind of just writing whichever fic i have most inspiration for at the moment. i did have a longer chapter but half of it got lost when my laptop crashed .

anyway, (if anyone's still reading this) unbeta'd and as always, thanks a bunch for feedback

* * *

Matthew watched as Ivan perched awkwardly on the edge of the armchair, plate of lasagna balanced precariously on his knee. It was surreal to see him looking so _lost_. Ivan was _always _in control at school, in lessons, in the lunch hall, even when he was getting harassed by some of the less educated students, he always had that calm smile on his face. Without it he didn't look intimidating at all.

It was a Friday, they usually ate at the table on Fridays but today an exception had been made. He and Alfred were slumped on the couch, Peter was sprawled across the floor on his front channel hopping between _Adventure Time_ and _Batman _in awkward silence. Matthew could hear his parents bickering distantly through the wall, probably about whether to call Social Services or something. Alfred was stoically avoiding Matthew's gaze and for once Matthew wished that myth about telepathic twins was true because _seriously. _

Eventually Alfred stood, "I'll take the plates in!" He offered, bending to collect Peter's and taking Ivan's with a silent smile.

"I'll help you," Matthew all but growled as Alfred turned to fetch his plate. His brother's smile wavered and Matthew was fairly sure his eyes were screaming (in as much as eyes could scream.) As soon as they were out in the hall Matthew rounded on him, "What the _hell_, Al?"

Alfred flinched (actually _flinched_) and said, "Mattie, can we not do this now?" And jerked his head towards the open living room door.

Matthew narrowed his eyes, "Well we can't exactly do this _later_, can we?" He hissed as they moved down the corridor.

Al sighed, "It's a long story, bro."

"I have time."

His brother shook his head, "I was just so _wrong_ about _everything_, Mattie." He said tiredly, "I just... He had the gun, like Kaoru said, but he wasn't - he wasn't going to use it on _us_."

"I never thought he would," Matthew muttered stiffly. Unlike Alfred he had actually experienced a little of the shit Ivan got at school. Not as much as Ivan did but Matthew was all kinds of socially awkward and people sort of didn't know what to do with that (except Kiku and Chelles and Al and apparently Toris now too.)

"I know," Alfred said woefully, pausing outside the kitchen door. "I should have listened to you."

Matthew almost had a heart attack. "_What_?" Al shot him a toothy grin and pushed in to the kitchen just as Matthew regained full use of his mouth. "Hey, we're not done yet!" Their parents looked up when they entered but carried on their conversation, apparently they'd moved on to talking about whether or not play-flirting with the new sous chef at the restaurant papa worked at was cheating or not. Matthew and Al shared an _why were we cursed to this life_ look before leaving.

"Al, you've still got to explain this to me," Matthew reminded as he followed Al back in to the hall.

Alfred sighed again, "Okay, okay, but don't like tell anyone, alright? When I got to his house he was - he had... Mattie he had the gun to use on _himself_."

_Oh_. "Merde," Matthew muttered because he hadn't been expecting _that_.

"If I had gotten there a few minutes later..." Alfred murmured. "_Fuck_, Mattie."

Matthew nodded, "Yeah," he agreed, "Fuck." Then a thought hit him and he leant heavily against the wall, running a hand through his already rumpled hair. Alfred's eyes widened a fraction, "What's wrong?"

"I was just thinking... If he _had_ done it? Can you imagine? Would we even know? I mean he just wouldn't turn up on Monday on then what?"

Alfred looked even more panicked, "They would have done an assembly, right? Oh god, if he had though it would have been _my_ fault. I mean I thought he was going to - _God_, Mattie, I'm such a shitty person."

Mattie smiled a little, "No, Al, you're not. I mean you can be a complete asshole sometimes but you're not _that bad_. I mean if you hadn't gone after him then..." He patted his brother awkwardly on the arm. Alfred didn't look completely convinced but he smiled anyway.

Matthew frowned as they got closer to the living room, he was a hundred percent sure he could hear voices, he glanced at Alfred who was wearing an identical expression of confusion.

"I'm seven _and a half_," Peter was saying.

"Oh?" Ivan replied quietly. "That's pretty big, isn't it? I have a sister about your age."

"Oh! She doesn't go to my school though... Is she home schooled? My cousin is homeschooled."

"No," Ivan sounded a little sad. "She doesn't live here, she's in Russia with my mother and older sister."

"Oh, that must _suck_."

Ivan chuckled softly, "Yeah, it does kind of suck."

* * *

Ivan was sitting awkwardly on the camp bed and Alfred was quietly freaking the fuck out. Just because Ivan wasn't going to shoot them didn't mean he wouldn't murder them in their sleep to try and get out of this situation. Mattie was in the shower, Peter had gone to bed so it was just him and Ivan. "So uh, I can lend you some pyjamas. I don't really think they'll fit you properly, though." Alfred murmured, turning towards the chest-of-drawers as Ivan made a noncommittal noise.

"I don't understand why you are doing this, Alfred," Ivan said quietly as Alfred rummaged in the drawer.

Alfred bit back a sigh, _because I felt guilty, because no one should feel __**that **__alone, because I had no idea what I was supposed to do. _He pulled out a large top that he didn't remember ever seeing before and settled for, "Because I couldn't just leave you there." He tossed the top to Ivan and dived back in to see if he could find a pair of pyjama bottoms. "I'm sorry, for like, everything." He murmured.

Ivan made a small noise halfway between huff and a snort, "You realise I am leaving tomorrow and we will never speak of this again."

_Shit. _Alfred wasn't qualified to deal with this kind of thing, he should probably phone Yao or something. Abandoning the search for pyjamas he turned to Ivan, "I'm not letting you leave until I know you're not going to..."

Ivan smirked, "_Kill myself_? Strange that you can't even say it, people like you have been telling me to kill myself half my life."

Alfred winced, he'd never actually said that to Ivan but he'd probably said it to others, he'd probably laughed along when others had. The words _but I didn't mean it __**seriously **_bubbled up in his throat. But how pathetic did _that _sound? "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter," Ivan said stonily, his jaw set. "Let us just get through this."

"It _does _matter. I shouldn't have -"

Ivan sighed, "We have already done this, Alfred. Just _stop." _He lay back on the camp bed and rolled to face the wall. Alfred growled and clambered up in to his bunk.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Chelles was off at a cheer-leading thing and Kiku wouldn't have any idea what to do so he settled for Toris. _S.O.S, _he texted frantically.

Thankfully the reply came quickly, _I'll bet! Mattie told me. At least you're still alive :/_

Alfred sighed, this was going to be a long night.

* * *

"What the hell are we supposed to do about this, Francis?" Arthur hissed as he slid in to bed beside his husband. Francis gently tugged him closer, leaning against him.

"I have no idea, mon cheri," Francis murmured, "We can't let the boy just go home but I don't think he'll be happy staying here..."

"Social services won't do anything," Arthur grumbled. "The most they'll do is put him on a register and send him back home. That kid'll never come forward with anything again."

Francis' arm tightened around his shoulder, "I won't let that happen, love."

Arthur made a noncommittal noise and sighed, "So what _do_ we do?"

"Well, I suppose tomorrow we will have to speak to Ivan and we should probably call the boy's father too."

Arthur growled, "Yes, we should _definitely _have words with him."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **jesus it's been a while – so sorry guys! I've actually managed to find myself a summer internship at readwave (which you should check out if you're in to writing original fiction) and i sort of fell out of the hetalia fandom but i am back now – i spent a weekend reading fics so i'm pretty into it again :D

short but hey it's an update right?

Warnings for homophobic slurs and non graphic child abuse.

* * *

Alfred jolted awake and for one brief horrifying moment he thought his alarm was going off and he'd have to get up for _school – _but no, it was a Saturday, right?

And it was still dark outside.

Alfred frowned and glanced at the clock on the wall. _3:18 _the illuminated numbers proclaimed. _What the hell? _Alfred wasn't a light sleeper. Not by a long shot. So what on Earth had woken him? He sat up slightly, frowning harder.

Then there was a frantic pounding from downstairs that had Alfred starting so violently he almost fell out of his bunk. "Mattie!" he hissed reflexively.

"I hear it to, Al." Came the swift reply. Mattie sounded a lot more awake than Alfred was. The pounding died down and there was a muffled whimper from somewhere near the floor.

"What the _fuck_ was that-" Alfred began before _oh_, Ivan. He swung himself out of the bunk bed and padded across to the light switch on the wall.

"Is that a good idea?" Mattie hissed, "Whoever's out there will know we're in here then."

Alfred sent him a look that was totally wasted in the darkness. "Dude, I'm pretty sure whoever's out there knows we're in. Otherwise why would they bother knocking?"

"Uh, right."

The pounding started up again and Alfred flicked on the light. Mattie blinked at him from the bottom bunk, one arm thrown across his face to shield his eyes, Ivan however was still curled on one side, blankets pulled up over his face. "Ivan," Alfred began nervously, "You still with us, buddy?"

A pale hand extracted itself from the bundle of blankets and tugged them down, "Da, Alfred." He murmured.

Alfred crossed to the window.

"Al! _No!_" Mattie leapt up and grabbed him before he could reach the window, "What are you doing?"

Alfred frowned. It wasn't a burglar downstairs and he doubted many serial killers had a tendency to knock before, well, serial killing you. In fact Alfred couldn't think of anyone evil who would _knock _before going about their evil business. Except maybe vampires. "It might be someone who needs help." He said, shrugging his twin off.

Mattie grabbed his arm, "Even if it is our parents will handle it! Please, Al. It could be dangerous."

They could hear movement from his parent's room now, his dad grumbling sleepily and his papa saying something quiet and urgent. "Mattie, it _won't _be dangerous!"

"It might be," Ivan said quietly. Alfred glanced back at him; he had sat up now, turned to watch them. He was still wrapped in the blankets, holding them tight around himself and looking absolutely miserable. "I think it is my father."

Alfred stared at him. "_What_?"

The door to his parent's room had opened and Alfred could hear his fathers walking across the hall. The pounding started up again this time accompanied by faint yelling. Ivan jumped eyes wide. "I am sorry," he murmured, "I _told you _I shouldn't be here – I – I..."

The bedroom door swung open and all three of them spun towards it. Francis stood there, one hand guiding a still sleepy Peter, "Watch your brother boys." He said hurriedly and Mattie stepped forward to lead the half-awake boy to the bottom bunk.

"Ivan," Francis said gently, "I want you to know that this isn't your fault, okay?"

Ivan didn't look convinced.

"You let dad go out there alone!?" Alfred spluttered.

"No, cheri, don't worry. Your father has gone to phone the police, then we'll go out and meet our guest. You four stay in here, okay?" and with that he was gone, padding down the hall and down the stairs.

Peter had fallen back asleep on Mattie's bed and Alfred exchanged a worried look with his twin. "How did he even know where you were?" he asked, turning back to Ivan.

Ivan had, if possible, curled further into himself, "He _knows _people." He whimpered. "I_ told you._ I told you I shouldn't be here! He'll be so angry..."

"It's alright, Ivan," Mattie began, reaching out to comfort him but Ivan flinched away.

"Don't," he hissed, "Just _don't._"

Mattie lurched back, "Sorry! Sorry!"

Alfred shuffled over slightly, so he was in between Ivan and his brothers. He didn't really think Ivan would freak completely but just in case. From downstairs they heard the sound of the front door being opened and Alfred spun, heading over to the window. This time Mattie didn't stop him.

The man on their door step was tall, dark haired and wearing a heavy overcoat. He stepped back as Alfred's parents stepped out and swayed a little, _drunk_, Alfred's mind supplied. He gestured wildly and Alfred could just make out what he was saying, "_YOU WILL GIVE ME BACK THAT BOY RIGHT NOW. I DON'T WANT HIM HANGING AROUND WITH A BUNCH OF FAGS."_

Papa was talking now, calmly but not politely and neighbours were noticing now too, lights up and down the street wear flickering on and people were leaning out to watch.

"_THAT BOY IS __**MINE. **__YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO KEEP HIM FROM ME."_

Gods, Alfred thought. The neighbours would probably think they were some kind of kidnappers. Mattie had joined him at the window, "What will the police do when they come?" he asked quietly. "I mean with Ivan? Do you think they'll take him away?"

_Shit._ Alfred hadn't thought of that. He glanced back at Ivan who was murmuring to himself in Russian now. "Guess we'll find out." Alfred muttered grimly.

* * *

Ivan's dad left after a while – when he heard the sirens.

The police, however, hadn't left yet.

Mattie and Alfred were debating whether or not to venture downstairs when a very tired looking Francis appeared at their door again, "Is everyone alright in here?"

Alfred felt almost sick with relief, "We're fine, are you alright?"

"Oui, mon cheri," Francis said with a tired smile. "They have decided to allow Ivan to remain here for the night; your father is just having a word with them now. Do you think you two could put your brother to bed while I have a little word with Ivan?"

Ivan was still curled in on himself and Alfred nodded reluctantly, Mattie had already gently shaken Peter awake, "Wha's happ'nin?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Mattie chuckled and pulled him to his feet and Alfred trailed after them.

* * *

When Francis had first met Arthur the boy had been so full of rage and hurt and bitterness he'd been momentarily stumped. It had taken years of patience to get Arthur to relax and he looked at this boy and saw so much of Arthur in him. From what he'd heard though Ivan did a better job at hiding his anger, only showing it in short bursts.

Francis knelt before him, "Ivan?" he said softly. The boy's eyes met his briefly before darting away again – they were the oddest colour. "Are you okay?"

Ivan's mouth opened and closed a few times mutely before he nodded shakily.

"Good, I need you to know that you're safe here, okay? Arthur and I will not let anything happen to you."

Ivan glanced back up at him before nodding again, cautiously.

"Tomorrow we'll have to take you down to the police station. I don't think they'll let you go back with your father."

The boy gnawed his lip worriedly. "He won't just let me go," he said quietly, insistently. "He won't let me talk to the police."

And Francis' heart broke a little. "I promise you we won't let him hurt you." he repeated but Ivan didn't look convinced.

"He'll find me," he mumbled. "He doesn't want to go to prison..."

"Well he won't have much of a choice." Francis said firmly. "I can promise you that, Ivan."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **eeee! I had no idea so many people were still following this fic :) thanks a bunch for all the feedback guys!

So I don't think child services actually work like this but this is fanfic so hey, i'm gonna roll with it. i mean i know a bit about how uk social workers work so this is based more off of that.

Btw anyone waiting on an update for my other AmeRus stories/my RusCan one i'm gonna focus on finishing this and my Nordic fic before updating those.

Warning for child abuse and discussion of suicide.

Hehe i totally want to write a pacific rim au at some point too.

* * *

Alfred's hands shook a little as the Officer Zwingli glared at him across the desk. "So you _broke _in to Mr Braginsky's home?" he asked for the third time.

"Well..._yeah, _but-"

Officer Zwingli cut him off, "Knowing full well it was against the law?"

"_Yes, _but-"

"And you did this _because?_" Officer Zwingli's green eyes narrowed. Alfred supposed he should be glad; at least he wasn't being interviewed by Mr Beilschimdt's brother like his parents were. How did that guy even _become _a policeman? Officer Zwingli was terrifying though – even though he was only a little taller than Peter.

"I was worried about Ivan." Alfred said simply.

"Yes, so you said. You were worried he would hurt himself or someone else but at no point did you think of calling the police?"

"Uh, well..." Alfred stammered a little; he was doing his utmost best not to be arrested (because that would _really _piss his parent's off) and besides, it was _way _too early for this. It wasn't even noon! "Look I just panicked, okay? I didn't want him to..." _shoot up my school. _"Do anything stupid."

Zwingli glared at him but eventually he stood up, "I suppose we can let you off this time." He said stiffly. "You are free to leave."

Mattie was waiting for him outside the interview room and sighed with relief when Alfred came out. "Thank god, I was beginning to think they'd arrested you!"

"Nope," Alfred grinned. "What about our dads?"

"They're still in the interview room." Mattie muttered worriedly as they started down the hall to where Peter was waiting, swinging his legs and tapping away on Papa's iPad.

"And Ivan?"

"Still with the social worker, I think."

Alfred sighed, "Guess we'll be here for a while."

* * *

"You can call me Elizabeta," the woman said, smiling warmly. "You know what my job is, don't you Ivan?"

Ivan trembled a bit – this was stupid, she was treating him like he was a _kid _and he wasn't. She was smiling at him, asking him questions that Ivan didn't want to answer ("Does your father ever hit you, Ivan?" _Only when I deserve it. _"Does he ever call you names?" _Nothing I haven't heard before. _"Do you have any other relatives?" _No, not anymore_.)

He didn't say any of that though.

"He only hits me if I've done something awful."

"Nyet, he never calls me names."

"My mother lives in Moscow with my sisters."

And she looked at him with pitying eyes, the way one of Alfred's dads looked at him. He wondered how much she really knew. It's not like he's never done this before. She's not the first social work he's met and this wasn't the first time his dad has been investigated.

He shifted in his chair, "I should leave soon," he mumbled, "My father will be wondering where I am."

"Ivan," she said gently, "He knows where you are. Now we know from what your friends have told us – "

Ivan cut her off with a dark look, "They are not my _friends._"

Elizabeta didn't flinch. "Okay, well the people you were staying with. They told us about your father's visit to their home; from what they sound it sounded pretty scary."

"I-" Ivan swallowed. "He was only that angry because he didn't know where I was."

"Ivan, I can't help you if you don't tell me anything – you know that right?"

Ivan looked down at his lap, "I don't need help." He said quietly.

* * *

"Can we _go _yet?" Peter asked, nudging Alfred in the shins.

Alfred yawned. It _had_ been hours, they were interviewing Mattie now and their parents still hadn't come back. "Not yet, buddy. Soon though."

Peter sighed loudly and slid further down in the uncomfortable little plastic chairs they had been given. "What's taking so long? Why can't they just arrest Ivan's dad and be done with it?"

Alfred didn't actually know why they couldn't do that, in his opinion that would be the best solution but his dad had explained about evidence and trials and witnesses and case building and how it really _wasn't _as easy as the movies made it out to be. Still, he had no idea why it was taking so _long_. "That's not how these things work, bud."

"_Why_?"

Alfred was about to tell him to shut up when Officer Zwingli and the social worker emerge from one of the interview rooms, "He won't say anything," the social worker said in a hushed tone. "I mean we can get medical records but there's nothing that proves it was his father who hurt him. Especially with his record for fighting at school."

The police officer nodded as they past, "So what would you recommend?"

"Well, I don't feel comfortable with sending him home but –" they rounded a corner and Alfred slid off his chair, gesturing for Peter to stay where he was. He crept after the pair as quietly as he could, if anyone asked he'd just say he was looking for a vending machine or a bathroom or something.

"You can put him on a short term care alert though?" Officer Zwingli was saying by the time Alfred had caught up with them again.

The social worker tilted her head and nodded, "Yes, that should at least give us time to build a case. It'll be a while before we can find a foster carer for an older child."

"Why can't he just stay with us?" The words were out of Alfred's mouth before he had a chance to hold them back. Officer Zwingli glared at him, "_What _are you doing?"

"I was just..." Alfred trailed off. _Crap. _What was it he was going to say? "I was just looking for the...the bathroom!"

Zwingli didn't look convinced but the social worker smiled, "Calm down, Vash, I'm sure he's just worried about his friend. Right?"

That was a way better excuse then the bathroom thing and if Ivan wasn't talking did that mean they'd let him go back to his dad? That wouldn't be good for anyone. He had to speak to him. "Yeah, can I see him?"

The social worker drew back a bit and Officer Zwingli opened his mouth, no doubt to say no but the social worker cut him off, "Well I don't see why not."

* * *

The room Ivan was being held in was bigger than the interview room, the walls were a soft yellow colour rather than a stark white and the carpet was plush and full. The social worker – Elizabeta – led him in and smiled, "You can have about ten minutes, okay? I'm going to talk to your parents, Alfred." And with that she left them.

"Hey, Ivan," Alfred smiled, approaching the table and sitting down opposite him.

Ivan kept his eyes on the floor, "Hello, Alfred." he muttered.

"So, uh, Elizabeta said you wouldn't tell her about your dad and his...about your dad."

Ivan glanced up at him briefly, "There is nothing to tell."

"Ivan..." Alfred sighed. Anyone could tell that he was lying. He didn't understand, why would Ivan _want _to stay with his dad? "They'll send you back." He said quietly and Ivan clenched his teeth.

"There is _nothing _to tell."

Alfred frowned, it didn't make sense – Ivan knew he was dad would be pissed so why would he willingly go back to him? It clicked into place slowly and Alfred's eyes widened a fraction. "You still want to –" he broke off when Ivan's eyes met his, burning with angry tears. "But – but I stopped you. I _saved _you!"

That was how it worked in the movies. That was how it was _meant _to work.

"_No_," Ivan spat, "You did not, Alfred. You made things _worse._"

Alfred shook his head, "No, I didn't I – I thought you'd be okay. You wouldn't have to live with him anymore..."

Ivan laughed at that, hollow and cold. "And where would I go, Alfred? A foster home? A children's home? You don't understand. This isn't like your silly American movies where everything ends happily, there is _no _happy ending for me. All you've done is taken the ending I wanted."


End file.
